Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except for the sickest pair of soccer cleats you will ever see in your lifetime.
Warning/Author's Note: This story contains some (hopefully) tasteful sexual content. That's why it's rated Mature. If you don't like sexual content, I'd recommend that you don't read it. July 9, 2010: I've also re-written the ending upon re-reading and deciding it was too abrupt and short. Enjoy.
Just Keep Breathing.
"I was wondering when you'd show up."
Draco Malfoy whirled around to see where the voice had come from. He knew that he was near Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, but he hadn't been able to find the building because it had been charmed to hide itself from those who bore the Dark Mark or those who came with bad intentions. Standing in an alley to his right was Harry Potter, leaning against one of the walls and looking quite like he owned everything he could possibly own. Draco bit back a sneer, opting for a blank look at his childhood rival.
"How do you know I'm not here to kill you?" Draco finally asked, running a hand through his pale blond hair that was shining in the moonlight above their heads. Harry smirked and shook his head.
"If you had come to do that, you would have done it the second you heard my voice," Harry reasoned. "And by the way you've been pacing up and down this entire block for the last two hours, I'm pretty sure you're here to either seek refuge or help us. Come on, I'll take you inside."
A large brick building appeared in the space between Number Eleven and Number Thirteen, right where it was supposed to be had there not been a charm placed on it. Harry strode into the house confidently, though Draco couldn't help but hesitate at the threshold. He still wasn't sure that he had made the right decision in coming here. He had told Voldemort that he was going scouting and that he would return in a few days time and Voldemort had easily believed his lie. The old bat had stopped looking into his mind long ago when Draco had gained his absolute trust. But here he was at the headquarters of the Order. Fat lot of good Voldemort's trust had gotten him.
Draco took a deep breath and entered the house, looking around as he did so. It was larger on the inside than it seemed from the outside. Draco figured someone - probably Hermione, Draco reasoned, since the witch could perform every bloody spell in the world perfectly on the first try - had magicked it so it was that way to provide more living space for the ever-growing numbers of the Order.
"So since you've seen me walking up and down the block for the last two hours, why did it take you so long to come outside and help me out?" Draco asked, unable to go a moment in pleasant conversation with Harry. He couldn't stand being on good terms with the boy, so he had to find a way to argue with him, even if it wasn't the same type of argument that they had had during school.
"Well, you see, we couldn't quite decide who should have the pleasure of being the first to speak with you," Harry explained as he led Draco through the house to the kitchen, where a few members of the Order sat waiting for them. "So, we had to choose fairly. Which took a while because at first we argued. Then we drew straws."
"Let me guess," Draco said, looking around at the faces in the kitchen. "You got the short straw, Potter?"
Harry grinned, his green eyes shining. "No, Ron did. But we all figured that it was best if he wasn't the one to greet you considering the temper he's got on him. I drew the second-shortest straw, so I had the great pleasure of making your acquaintance first."
Ron Weasley rolled his eyes as Harry's grin widened. "I don't trust him," the redhead said sullenly. "That's all."
"Nevermind Ron," Hermione Granger piped up. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place, Malfoy."
Draco's gaze fell on Hermione when she spoke. He couldn't believe she was being this kind to him after the torment he had put her through during school. After the names he had called her. After the things he had done to her comrades during the war. It was mind-boggling that she could speak to him like she actually liked him as a person. Everyone knew they hated each other. That they were polar opposites, from their beliefs to their appearances.
Draco knew that everyone compared the two. He was the epitome of bad, and she was the picture of good. The contrasts between the two were obvious to everyone: straight, pale blond hair as opposed to curly, dark brown hair; deep blue-grey eyes full of hatred and anger versus warm, brown eyes that were so lively and so loving; the hard lines and angles of a Seeker against the supple curves of the soft body of an academic; pale skin that looked almost sick when placed next to warm, glowing skin. Even the expressions they made couldn't be more different. Eliciting a sneer from Draco was as easy as getting a smile out of Hermione - that is to say, quite easy.
Draco knew that everyone compared them as the Prince of Darkness and the Gryffindor Princess, the epitomes of the values of their "sides." No one could blame them for that, for the comparison had fit up until a week ago when Draco had had an epiphany.
He didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore. But it wasn't as though he could just remove the Dark Mark from his arm and be done with it. He wouldn't be completely free until Voldemort had been defeated. But he figured he could get pretty close by offering to be a double-agent, just as his mentor Snape had been.
"Thank you, Granger," Draco replied, nodding to her. Arthur and Molly Weasley stared at him from the kitchen table, along with Professor McGonagall, Dean Thomas, Mundungus Fletcher, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, and Nyphadora Tonks. He felt completely out of place in his Death Eater robes, a new feeling for him, as he took in their comfortable attire of pajamas or jeans and t-shirts. The overbearing black of the outfit suddenly seemed stifling and tacky, not at all what Voldemort had been going for when choosing his minions' dress code.
"So I'm assuming you're going to be a double-agent, then?" Arthur Weasley asked, his arm around his wife. "That's really the only reason I can see that you would be pacing the entire block for as long as you did." Draco nodded. "Well, son, you couldn't have come at a better time."
"What do you mean?" Draco asked, curious.
"I'm sure you heard about the 'accident' Caitlin Conway got in recently, correct?" Lupin asked. When Draco nodded again, Lupin continued, "Well, she was our last double-agent on the other side. She wasn't careful and her death wasn't an accident. It's quite sad, really. She was a very sweet little thing, and her information was always good."
"Oh, don't let this old codger scare ya," Tonks said upon seeing the shocked look on Draco's face as she caressed Lupin's scarred cheek lovingly. "He means well, but sometimes he tells too much. Just be careful with this is what he means. Welcome to the family."
"Thank you," Draco said again. He looked to Harry once more. "When do you tell me this is all a joke and that no one believes that I've changed my mind? Because I always thought no one here trusted me twice as far as they could throw me."
Harry smirked, leaning over on the back of Ron's chair. "We've been waiting for you for a long time, Malfoy. Everyone has had plenty of time to get used to the idea of you being one of the good guys."
"You didn't know it would happen for sure though..."
"There are some things you just have a good feeling about. We'll talk more about this tomorrow. For now, I think it's high time everyone got some rest. Hermione has an empty room next door to her that's ready to be used. Hermione, would you mind?" Harry asked, looking at his friend. Hermione shook her head and stood to lead Draco to his room.
"Let's go, Malfoy," Hermione said, brushing past him and heading for the staircase. As they walked down one of the hallways, one of the portraits began to scream something. Without a second thought, Hermione closed a curtain over it and murmured, "Silencio." She sighed and continued to walk. Draco remained where he was and looked at the curtain, confusion knitting his brows together.
"What's that?" he asked, catching up to Hermione in three long strides.
"That's Walburga Black, Sirius's mum. She hates me, but she'd love you," Hermione said, looking at Draco over her shoulder. Her hair swung in a tight French braid. The plaiting ended three-quarters of the way down her back, making it much longer than it had been the last time he had seen her. "She wasn't quite a Death Eater, and neither was her husband, but they did believe in the purification of the wizard race. She screams and howls about it all the time. We'd have removed the portrait by now if we could, but it's charmed into place. It's impossible to get rid of it. So we just keep her behind that curtain to keep her quiet. I don't know who opened it, but they've got bullocks for brains. It was probably Ron."
Draco chuckled. He followed her up the stairs and down a long hallway to the right. They arrived at his room and Hermione opened the door for him, smiling a tight-lipped smile at him. Draco stopped before he walked into the room and looked at Hermione. "Look, Granger... I know I've never been the best person to you, and that I don't deserve any of the trust that you all have given me," Draco began. "But I'm thankful. And I'd like to apologize of the years of hell I put you through."
Hermione shook her head. "You and your upbringing. Always being so polite and thanking people and apologizing. You're welcome, though, Malfoy. And I've already forgiven you for the past. Starting today, we begin fresh."
Draco nodded, offering his hand to her. "Hi, my name is Draco Malfoy."
Hermione looked at his hand for a moment, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips, before she took it with her small hand. "Hello, it's good to meet you. I'm Hermione Granger." She felt her heart flutter as their hands made contact, but didn't betray the feelings for fear that he didn't feel the same sensations.
"The pleasure is mine." Draco pulled his hand away, confused by the feeling in his stomach. It wasn't the feeling he got when he needed to puke. It was the feeling he thought he had heard called butterflies by a few of the muggleborns at Hogwarts. It was odd to feel that sensation after touching Hermione Granger.
Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away from him, heading for her room. "Goodnight, Malfoy," she called over her shoulder.
"We're on the same side now," he said back. "That means we're on a first-name-basis, especially since we've got this fresh start going."
Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Goodnight, Draco," she said, correcting herself. She liked the way it rolled off her tongue. It was comfortable.
"Goodnight, Hermione," Draco replied as they each disappeared into their rooms.
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Over the next month, Draco returned to them three times, staying for three days each time. He lived in the same room each time, one wall separating himself from Hermione as she slept each night. The two quickly became friends, taking their fresh start to heart and putting the past behind them. On their breaks, they spent hours poring over books about Horcruxes and the best ways to find them. They had good conversations, intellectually stimulating conversations. But they also talked about their lives. Draco had started to open up to Hermione about things he had never told anyone before. His childhood was a mystery to everyone except for those involved in it, and Hermione was happy that he felt like he could tell her about it.
On the last night of Draco's third visit, he and Hermione were sitting at one of the small tables in the library of Grimmauld, looking over the same book at the same time. Hermione suddenly sat back and moaned in frustration. They were getting nowhere with these books. They had found maybe three pieces of useful information. Which was, granted, better than none. But Hermione wasn't seeing any substantial results from their meticulous research and it was almost one in the morning.
"Draco, this is absolutely horrible," Hermione whined. "We're getting nowhere."
She pulled herself out of the wooden chair and began pacing around the room. Draco watched her make three passes around the perimeter of the room before he stood as well. He walked over to stand directly in her path, which she normally would have noticed. But she was staring at the ground, her brow furrowed with concentration as she thought. Draco waited patiently for her to make it back around to him. Hermione ran into him and fell back, startled. Nimbly, Draco caught her around her elbows and steadied her.
"Pacing will get you nowhere, Hermione. Trust me, I spent two hours pacing outside this place and couldn't find it without Potter's help," Draco said, still holding her by her elbows. She looked up at him, scowling.
They stood like that for a moment, inches from one another, just looking at each other. Draco's eyes roamed over Hermione's face, noticing some things for the first time. Like the spattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose and on her cheeks. The way she constantly chewed at her bottom lip, making it swell. The way she blushed so easily, like she was right now under his scrutiny. He smirked as he felt her eyes on him now, returning the favor.
Hermione had always known that Draco was attractive. She'd have to be a blind old bat not to know that. But she had never gotten a chance to examine him from this close perspective. He suddenly grinned, as if thinking about something happy and Hermione realized that his smile was lopsided. She couldn't help but think it was adorable. And his eyes, which she remembered most of the time as being slitted and angry, were open and unguarded. His face was all about hard angles and strong lines, the epitome of the male anatomy.
The pair locked eyes and stared at one another for a few moments. This was unlike anything that had ever occurred between the two of them. Hermione could have sworn that she felt the air between them crackling with tension, and if Draco was being honest with himself, he thought the same. Hermione's eyes clouded over with worry for a moment.
"Draco..." Hermione said, confused. He shook his head and wrapped her into his arms protectively. Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have pulled away. But the way her stomach jumped and started doing flips made her take a moment to relax into his sinewy, athletic body. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment.
Draco didn't know what to think. He had never thought that something like this would be happening with Hermione Granger of all the people he knew in the world. Their bodies fit together perfectly, another surprise for Draco. During school she had always seemed frumpy - aside from the Yule Ball fourth year when there was not an eye in the place that hadn't been on her - and he had never really been sure that she had any curves to her. But now, feeling her body against his own, he could definitely say that Hermione had curves with confidence.
"Draco," Hermione began again, pulling her head back to look up at him. He didn't want to get into any serious conversation about the war and Voldemort and Harry. That's why he kissed her.
At least, that was what he told himself to keep himself from thinking too hard about it. Had he been completely honest with himself, he didn't know what possessed him to do it. Maybe it was the tension between them and the bond that they had formed on his visits. But Draco refused to consider that. As far as he was concerned, he had kissed her because he didn't want to talk seriously. He wanted to forget about the war and get lost for a moment.
The moment his lips touched hers, Hermione felt like thousands of fireworks had gone off in her head. It took her a moment to respond, sliding her hands up his chest and then his neck and then into his hair. Draco nibbled at her bottom lip, running his tongue over it as his way of asking her permission to enter. She parted her lips obligingly and their tongues met fiercely, each fighting for the upper hand. Draco's grip on Hermione tightened, pulling her body closer to his as she raked her fingers through his hair.
A few moments later they broke apart, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Draco kept his arms wrapped around her and met her eyes with his own. He could see the arousal in her eyes, and he was sure that his mirrored that emotion. Her eyes also held confusion at the way she was feeling. Draco could tell she was a virgin, so he wouldn't push for anything more than that one kiss unless she wanted it.
Draco had to admit that he had liked kissing her even though he was only doing it so they didn't have to talk about their real lives - he absolutely refused to be honest with himself about this situation. How could he fancy Hermione? He had known her for most of his life, and hated her for most of it. It was not possible to care for someone in this way after the time he had spent being a downright git to her. It was absolutely illogical, impossible, and insane that he would even consider fancying Granger as a possibility for kissing her.
"Herm-" Draco began hoarsely. Hermione cut him off, kissing him fervently. He could sense the urgency she felt, and was curious why she was so eager to kiss him.
Had he been given the chance to ask Hermione why, she wouldn't even have been able to tell him. She felt a new fire in her belly and the pleasure it brought her made her curl her toes. Her hands were everywhere on his body now, grabbing his shoulders and running over his chest and back. She clutched at him, wanting more and more of him as close to her as possible.
It only took a second for Draco to realize where this was heading. The pent-up tension that had always been between them from the day they had met was going to add wood to this fire and who knew when one of them would stop it. He plunged one hand into her thick, dark hair as the other pulled her hips closer to him. Hermione broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily. Draco immediately began kissing his way along her jaw bone and down her neck to where it met her shoulder. He bit her there, leaving an angry red mark that advertised her as his. Her breaths were coming in short little bursts of hot air as he kissed back up her neck towards her ear. He took her earlobe into his mouth, nipping at it and sucking it.
Surprised at the sensations, Hermione let out a low moan, feeling goosebumps all the way down to her toes. She shivered with pleasure as she grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face back to hers, their lips meeting intensely and roughly. Draco pulled her closer to him once more, grinding her hips to his. She broke away and gasped when she felt the bulge in his pants. He let go of her and took a step back, raising his hands to show her he meant no harm.
"We can stop whenever you want to," Draco said, his voice deeper than normal and throaty with arousal. Hermione shut her eyes for a moment and thought, sucking in deep breaths and trying to steady her racing heart. She opened her eyes and took a step forward to close the distance between them. She placed a light kiss on his lips and looked him in the eyes.
"I want this, Draco," she murmured, her voice quivering.
"You're sure?" he asked. "You're sure that you want to give this to me?" He was referring to her virginity, and he was glad that she caught on. She didn't say anything, only nodded. "Hermione, if you have any second thoughts about this-"
"I'm not going to," she said. "I know what I want, and this is what I want."
He nodded and took her hand. "Then we're going to do this properly. I'm taking you to a bedroom." Grabbing Hermione's hand and lacing his fingers through hers, he led her up the stairs to his room. He waited to see if she wanted to go to her bedroom or not, and when she didn't protest to his bedroom, he opened his door and walked her in. He turned to face her, placing a lingering kiss on her lips before he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She giggled at him as he laid her down on the silk covers carefully, like she was made of porcelain.
"Draco?" she asked. He looked down at her from the his position standing next to the bed. He stared at her, waiting. "Please... Don't hurt me."
"I won't, Hermione," he promised. And he meant that. He didn't know how or why he was in this situation, and he really didn't care at this point about lying to himself. He fancied Hermione Granger and he was going to make her first time the best, because for all he knew he wouldn't be able to visit Grimmauld Place ever again. He could have been found out and could be killed upon his return to Voldemort tomorrow. He wanted this, not only for himself, but also for Hermione. Her first time should be one of her favorite memories, and he planned to give her that.
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An hour and a half and two orgasms from Hermione later, around 2:30 in the morning, Draco was panting hard and waiting for Hermione to give him the go-ahead. His erection was poised at her entrance and he was ready to make good on his promise to make her first time incredible, but her face was scrunched up in concentration. It was like she was deciding whether she wanted to go through with it or not.
"Just say the word, Hermione," Draco said between breaths, "and we'll stop right now. I don't want you to feel obligated to do this."
"No, no, Draco," Hermione said, her brown eyes fluttering open. "I don't want you to stop. I told you, I want this. I just...want to be ready mentally."
Draco chuckled. Why was he not surprised? She had to prepare herself mentally. He had just started a walk down Memory Lane when Hermione suddenly wrapped her legs around his hips and rocked her own forward, plunging his entire length into her. She let out a little whimper at the sudden sensation and stretching of her entrance. The guttural moan that escaped from Draco's lips as he threw his head back reminded Hermione of a lion, almost. It was that feral and animalistic. He bit his lip as he dropped his head forward to look at Hermione. They locked eyes, and Hermione thought he looked more in pain than anything else.
"Oh my God, Draco," Hermione asked, worried. "Are you alright?"
He chuckled a little before answering, his words coming out as moans. "God, Hermione, I'm great. You're so tight."
Hermione smiled a little. She had expected pain, and maybe if they hadn't taken the amount of time to prepare her, she would have felt some. But all she felt was full in the best way possible. He felt good inside her, like that was where he was supposed to be. She shifted her hips around, getting used to the feeling. Draco's eyes bulged a little and another moan came from somewhere deep within his lungs. She was pleased that she could make him moan that way after he had done the same for her for almost two hours. She grinned devilishly, letting her hips drop back to the bed so that his erection slipped back out of her. He growled at the sudden loss of her heat around him and repositioned himself on the bed so he could re-enter her.
As he slid into her, she sucked in a deep breath. "God, Draco," she moaned, scratching her hands down the length of his back. He began thrusting, slowly and shallowly at first, then faster and deeper as she became more accustomed to him.
About forty-five minutes later, he pushed her over the edge for the third time and she screamed his name as she orgasmed. Her entire body went taunt as a bow-string and she tightened around him, pulling him over with her. He came inside her as she rode out her orgasm, taking deep breaths and attempting to relax her muscles. When she finally managed to relax, her entire body began to shake.
Draco slid himself out of her and rolled over to her side, pulling her close to him to cuddle for the rest of the night and enjoy the time they had together before he returned to Voldemort and his uncertain future.
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Hermione woke alone in the bed the next morning, the sheets where Draco had slept cold and hard. She held the covers up over herself as she sat up and looked around the room for some sign of him. Finding none, she sighed and pulled her knees to her chest to put her head on them. As she continued to look around the room, her eyes fell on a small, folded piece of parchment on the table next to the bed. She leaned over and picked it up, scared of the contents it might hold.
Hermione:
I apologize for not waking you to say goodbye. You were just too peaceful in your sleep and I didn't feel right disturbing it. I had to return to Voldemort early this morning to report anything I had found, but I truly regret not being able to tell you this in person: Last night was absolutely wonderful. I'll see you next time I visit. Take care of yourself, Hermione.
Draco
Hermione smiled and folded the note back up. She slid out of the bed and picked up her clothes, pulling them on as she tidied up the room. She looked over at the muggle clock on the nightstand, surprised to find that it was half past noon. She never slept this late, and she was sure that Harry and Ron were wondering about her. She could only pray that no one was in the hall to see her leave Draco's room in her current state of dishevel. She padded over to the door, opening it and peeking around the frame to make sure the hallway was empty. Finding the coast clear, she quickly walked to her own room. She quickly drew a bath for herself before she got ready to go downstairs. Her stomach rumbled at her and she found herself to be ravenous.
"Skipping breakfast does not agree well with you, Hermione," she murmured to herself, pulling a brush through her long hair. After brushing her teeth as well, Hermione made her way downstairs to the kitchen. She found Harry and Ron sitting at the table, eating sandwiches and making pleasant conversation. They looked up at her as she entered.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Harry said, joking. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and walked over to the cabinet to make her own sandwich. "What took you so long to get up today?"
"Long night with the books," Hermione lied, keeping her back to her friends. She knew that if they saw her face they would be able to tell that she was lying. As long as they didn't see that, she would be safe. Ron grunted as though he didn't believe it though, and Hermione wondered if her voice had shaken without her noticing.
"Where's Malfoy?" Ron asked gruffly, and Hermione could feel his eyes glaring into her back.
"I was under the impression that he had to return to Voldemort today?" Hermione asked more than said as she worked on her sandwich. She gave it all of her focus, pretending that Harry and Ron weren't even in the room. She heard the two murmuring behind her but refused to turn and ask what they were talking about.
"I suppose he left early then," Harry finally said. "Well, hopefully he'll be back soon. I'm sure he'll be missed."
Harry's words were loaded with a subtle message that he was directing towards Hermione. She froze, leaning over the counter, and she realized she wasn't hungry anymore.
"I'm sure," Hermione murmured. She resumed making her sandwich, hurrying now. She was anxious to get out of the kitchen, but if she didn't finish her sandwich then Harry would take that as confirmation of what he was hinting at. For now, he still didn't know for sure that something had occurred between she and Draco the night before. And that was the way that Hermione wanted to keep it. Eventually, he and Ron would let it drop and let her move on with her life.
"I know that I just can't wait until he gets back here," Ron said sarcastically. Hermione shot a glare at him over her shoulder. Her nerves were really starting to get frazzled by his taunting.
"There's no need to be rude, Ron," Hermione said, chastising him. She did her best to sound nonchalant about it, but she knew she had failed miserably. Ron shook his head and looked at Harry, who shrugged and continued to eat his sandwich.
"To each her own," Harry said through a mouthful of food. Ron shoved his chair back from the table and stomped out of the kitchen like a petulant little child. The moment his footsteps had faded, Hermione's shoulders relaxed and her appetite began to return to her. Harry remained quiet behind her, seemingly absorbed in his sandwich. Hermione knew that most of his attention was focused on her though, waiting for her to say something to defend herself. When Hermione turned and headed for the door with her food, Harry grabbed her arm and stopped her. "Hermione, whenever you want to tell us what happened with you two is fine with me."
Hermione looked at him for a moment before she nodded. He let go of her arm and she left the kitchen, heading straight for the library. The table she and Draco had been working at was exactly how they had left it and she immediately picked up where she had left off, doing her best to focus on the words in front of her and not on how Ron and Harry had been acting in the kitchen. They should have been happy for her. Draco had started to get on with them both fairly well, although it was always rough where Ron was involved. But they had formed something that resembled a friendship. And Hermione belonged to no one. She was free to fancy whomever she wanted to.
She nodded to herself and focused back on her books. She had work to do.
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Three weeks later, Hermione woke up with a weird feeling in her stomach. She climbed out of the bed, stumbling to the bathroom and leaning over the toilet. She held her own hair back as she threw up the contents of last night's dinner. She kneeled next to the toilet, waiting in case there was more to come. Fifteen minutes later, she felt much better than she had when she woke up, so she stood up and went to her shower. She didn't think anything of it for the rest of the day, assuming that she had eaten something the night before that hadn't agreed with her.
When the same thing happened the next morning, Hermione began to get worried. This wasn't normal for her body to do. She never got sick like this, and it was really starting to freak her out. She went through the next three days without another incident, but on the fourth morning - the morning of the day that Draco had said he would be visiting - she threw up again. This time she spent an hour in the bathroom before she started feeling better, and another thirty minutes taking a cold shower to calm herself down and lower the heat on her skin. She didn't have a fever, but it felt like a hot flash - or what she guessed a hot flash would feel like since she had never experienced one for herself.
Hermione dragged herself downstairs around 9 that morning, walking into the kitchen to find a group of people sitting at the table with Draco. He was giving them a brief on the information he had gotten in the past weeks. As she walked into the room, he stopped talking to see who it was. He gave her a toothy grin when he saw her, and she smiled back, waving.
"Welcome back, Draco," Hermione said. "Continue whatever it was you were saying. I'm just going to get breakfast real quick then I'll be off to the library."
Draco nodded and Hermione blocked out what he was saying as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. She finished it a few minutes later and placed it in the sink quietly. She then tip-toed out of the room and headed over to the library, feeling nervous for some reason. She had told him where she was going purposely with the hope that he would come find her once he finished talking to Harry and the other Order members that had gathered in the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, Hermione had really gotten into the book in front of her, scratching down notes on things she thought could help their cause. She didn't even notice when Draco entered the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. He took a moment to study her as she worked. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes were darting all over the page, searching for key words and phrases that might lead to Voldemort's undoing. She seemed to feel herself being scrutinized and looked up to see who was watching her.
The moment her eyes locked on his, her face lit up. "Draco," she said, trying not to sound too excited. She was pleased that he had caught her hint to come find her after the meeting.
"Hermione," Draco murmured, grinning at her. "How have you been?"
She cocked her head to the side, as though thinking. "So-so. I've been sick in the mornings as of late, but I feel fine after a bit. And yourself?"
Draco's eyes widened at those words, his mind working overdrive. Sick in the mornings? Hermione looked at him, confused by his change in expression and lack of answer. All she had done was tell him that she was sick in the mornings -
Realization dawned in her eyes and she suddenly understood why Draco looked as though he had just been hit by a truck.
"Bloody hell," they both murmured in unison.
"Come here," Draco commanded. Hermione, shocked at the news, stood and did as she was told. Draco took out his wand, pointing it at her stomach. Hermione immediately wrapped her arms around her stomach and turned her back to him, glaring at him over her shoulder.
"You're not going to kill it!" she exclaimed, indignant that he had even thought for a second that she would be okay with that. Instead of arguing with her, he rolled his eyes at her.
"I'm not trying to," he said, his voice strained. "I was going to check and see if you were for sure."
Slowly, Hermione turned around and released her grip around her stomach. Draco pointed his wand at her stomach again and murmured some words that Hermione couldn't quite make out. The air between them began to hum as the magic worked for a moment. Seconds later, the tip of Draco's wand began to glow a pale pink. He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"Draco?" Hermione whispered, not sure whether the pink meant that she was or wasn't pregnant.
"Hermione..." Draco started, then paused for a moment to collect himself before he took her into a tight hug. "We're having a baby."
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"You're WHAT?" Ron screamed at Hermione. She cringed at his outburst, flinching back in her seat. "Bloody hell, Hermione! I knew that you had a thing for the bastard. But I never would have thought that you'd be stupid enough to have his kid!"
"Ron," Harry murmured, trying to settle his friend down. "I don't think Hermione meant for this to happen. It's not like she really needs a baby during a war like this."
"I don't give a horse's arse what she meant to do!" Ron screamed. "She bloody well did it!"
Hermione sat in silence, watching her two best friends argue about her. She had insisted to Draco that she had to tell them alone and had left him sitting in his room to wait for her to be finished talking to them. Tears started to form in her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away.
"Ron, you're overreacting right now," Harry said calmly.
"Overreacting?" Ron continued to scream. "I most certainly am not. If I were overreacting, I would walk right out of this room and down to that ferret's room and chop his no-good balls off!"
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, appalled.
"What, Hermione? Are you going to defend him? Tell me that he didn't just use you? That he actually cares about you? You know how he is about women, Hermione! He doesn't care about you! He only wanted to get in your pants, and you let him. And now you've got a big problem on your hands."
Hermione stood and slapped Ron across his face soundly. An angry red mark that matched the shape of her hand began to form on his cheek and he stared at her, shocked. She glared at him as the room was filled with a heavy silence.
"Don't you ever speak those words again. You don't know the first thing about him," Hermione said dangerously, not completely sure why she was defending him to her friends. Harry watched Ron to make sure he stayed fairly calm.
"And neither do you," Ron hissed, standing nose-to-nose with Hermione. "Well, other than in the biblical sense."
Hermione's face flushed, but her glare didn't waver. "If you think that's the way things were, then you don't know me either. I'll talk to you later." Hermione turned on her heel and started walking toward the door when she stopped and looked at Ron again. "If I ever want to again."
With that, she left the room and headed for Draco's down the hall. She wiped her eyes, trying not to cry. She knocked on the door and waited for Draco to open it, wrapping her arms around her stomach. A few seconds later, the door cracked open and she pushed her way through to the room where she immediately broke down, sobbing. She leaned against the wall and slid down to pull her knees to her chest.
Immediately, Draco was kneeling next to her, wrapping her into him and whispering comforting words into her hair. He didn't know what had happened with Ron and Harry, but he could guess that it had probably been horrible. She buried her face into his chest, her chest heaving wildly. Not knowing what to do, he just sat there and let her cry, rubbing her back comfortingly and hoping she would calm down sooner rather than later. It took Hermione ten minutes to catch her breath and ten more minutes to stop crying enough to speak. She finally leaned out of his chest, wiping her puffy eyes before looking up at him.
"Hey," he murmured.
"Hey," Hermione croaked, her voice hoarse with emotion.
"You okay?" he asked. When she shook her head, he tried to decide whether to ask her what happened or not.
"Ron thinks I'm an idiot and that I'm a horrible person because of this," Hermione said without prodding. "He said that you used me and you only wanted to get in my pants. He says I don't know you, and maybe I don't. But I do know that I don't regret a single moment of it and I wouldn't have it any other way. I slapped him. I slapped my best friend. And threatened not to speak to him ever again."
A few tears slid down her cheeks. Draco wiped them away with his thumb, an incredibly tender gesture that most wouldn't think him capable of. She buried her face into his chest once more, her chest heaving again. This time, though, her sobs were more muted and Draco could tell that she was growing tired. Eventually her sobs slowed before tapering off completely as her body slumped into him. He leaned his head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling, his bones aching with stress and fatigue from the past month. He could use a long nap right about now.
This in mind, Draco carefully rearranged Hermione so that he could stand. He then picked her up and carried her to the bed with him, laying her down tenderly before climbing into the other side. Shortly after, he fell asleep and dreamed of the future he hoped to have should his relationship with Hermione blossom and the war end with Harry the victor. It centered around one small, blond boy who looked just like his father and had as much compassion as his mother.
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Hermione spent the days that Draco had at Grimmauld Place either in the library with him or talking with him in the kitchen. She and Ron didn't speak the entire time Draco remained in the house and even for a week after he left. Harry tried to talk some sense into Ron and Hermione separately, without any luck. Ten days after Hermione had revealed the news to her best friends, Harry was tired of the tension between them. He arranged for them to be forced to settle things: he asked Hermione to meet him in his room at one in the afternoon, and he also asked Ron to meet him in his room at 1:15 that same afternoon.
Hermione knocked on Harry's door at one o'clock exactly, and he ushered her in quickly, hoping Ron wasn't close by to see her enter the room.
"Hermione," Harry said by way of greeting. "How are you? You're feeling alright, correct?"
Hermione smiled at him, thankful for his concern. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you. It's been an adjustment period. I've been looking up the foods I should eat lately and I'm probably going to have to cut most sweets out of my diet and take vitamins, which is sort of obnoxious. But I'm alright, in the biggest sense of the word."
Harry nodded, glad to hear it. He glanced at the door nervously, praying Ron would be early for once instead of late. "You realize that now that you're pregnant you'll have to stay here most of the time, right? I know that Malfoy would throw a fit if he knew we allowed you to be put in danger when you were pregnant."
"Fiddlesticks," Hermione said and waved a hand dismissively. "I should be out there with you and the rest of the Order. I can handle missions for at least the first six months of my pregnancy. It could be a problem once I start showing, of course. But up to that point, I'll be fine."
"Hermione, what about your child?" Harry asked. She looked down at her hands. He knew that she had already thought about this, but that she was too stubborn to admit that she needed to stay back. She glanced up at Harry and grimaced. "Your life is no longer the only one at stake here."
She sighed. "I know... I just hate feeling like I'm useless. I know I can do research and things like that, but I'm of much better use in the field. I know so many useful spells..."
"You can teach people those spells, though."
Hermione continued to look at her hands, refusing to make eye contact. She was saved by another knock on the door and Harry shot up to answer it. He let Ron in before he spelled the door shut without saying a word. Upon seeing Hermione, Ron went to turn and walk back out of the room, but Harry barred his way. Ron had a good three inches in height and width on Harry, but the smaller boy stood firm between Ron and the door-handle. Hermione was glaring at Harry, angry about the trick he had used to get them in the same room with one another.
"Harry, you're a dirty bastard," Ron said scathingly. "Did she put you up to this?"
"No, Ron," Harry said, "she didn't. I did. You two need to work this out because I'm tired of this horrible silence. Yes, Hermione has gotten into a spot of trouble but you and I both know that now is when she needs us to be there for her most."
Ron glanced over his shoulder at Hermione, his face still contorted with rage at Harry's trickery. "I refuse to speak to her."
"Then you can speak to me," Harry said, desperate now. "But there's nothing wrong with what Hermione did, and she doesn't deserve your anger."
"Let him be," Hermione called. "This is his decision, and if he wants nothing to do with me, then that's how it's going to be."
"There you go, Harry," Ron said. "Let me be."
"No." Harry shoved Ron back towards Hermione. "You and Hermione are best friends. Best friends don't just turn their backs on each other. We can't do that now, not with this war raging against Voldemort. We have to stick together, just like we did during school. 'We're in this together.' How many times have you heard that? And how many times has it been Hermione who said it to you? Or to me? Or to anyone in the Order. You know I'm right, and you know that we have to stay together to make it through this, through the war, and through the rest of our lives."
Ron looked at Hermione, his eyes sad. Harry's words made more sense than Ron wanted them to. "'Mione?"
She looked up at him, her eyes vulnerable. "Ron."
He turned all the way to face her then stepped up and wrapped her into a hug. "I'm so bloody sorry," Ron murmured into her hair.
"It's alright, Ron," Hermione said into his chest. "I'm just glad that you're here now."
There was an urgent knock at the door and Harry quickly un-did the spell and opened the door. Arthur Weasley was looking at him, his face frozen with fear and Harry immediately thought the worst: Voldemort had found a way to get into Grimmauld Place.
"What is it, Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked, his heart starting to race.
"Malfoy. He's been found out. He's sent word by owl that he's on his way here, but he's not sure that he'll make it. He's said that he's surprised he even made it out of Voldemort's headquarters without being killed. He needs our help."
Hermione bolted from the room and was down the stairs before anyone else had thought of what to do. She shot out the front door, pulling her wand out as she did so. She knew that he would be on foot for the last quarter mile to Grimmauld Place because of the anti-Apparation wards that had been placed on the area. Hermione bolted for the street corner she knew he normally Apparated to, hoping to get there in time to help him some. Harry, Ron, and Mr. Weasley were close behind her, their wands out and at the ready.
They reached the corner, all of them out of breath, just as Draco did, quickly followed by a large group of cloaked Death Eaters. Draco stumbled as he arrived and Hermione caught him and helped him right himself. He looked horrible, cuts and bruises covering his face and his cloak in tatters.
"Hermione," he said, gasping for breath. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be," she said, turning him to face the oncoming Death Eaters. "Just fix it. Now."
"No, Hermione," Harry said. "Take him back to the house. We'll take care of this."
Hermione hesitated, trying to decide whether to stay and fight or do as she had been ordered. She glanced down at her stomach and the decision was made for her. She grabbed Draco's arm and yanked him back towards Grimmauld Place with her.
"Can you run?" she asked as they went. He shook his head, no. "Can you jog?" He nodded this time, limping slightly as they picked up the pace.
Just outside the entrance to the house, a cloaked Death Eater cut in front of them, blocking them from the entrance. He yanked his mask back, revealing himself as Fenrir Greyback, which explained how he caught up to them. The pair stopped short and Hermione raised her wand to him. Draco feebly did the same and Greyback chuckled.
"You've fallen so far, Draco," Greyback said. "Leaning on a mudblood for help."
"Don't test me, Greyback," Draco said darkly. "You know nothing."
"I know that you've betrayed the Dark Lord, and it's time for you to get your retribution. Avada kedavra!"
Milliseconds later, Hermione screamed the same spell. Greyback fell to the ground at the same time as Draco did, but she had been just barely too late. She fell to the ground next to Draco, shaking him in the hope that maybe he had just collapsed from exhaustion. Moments later, Harry, Ron, and Mr. Weasley ran up to them and pulled Hermione from Draco's body.
"No! Let me go!" Hermione said through her tears, fighting get back on the ground with Draco. Harry wrapped his arms around her torso from behind, holding her arms to her sides tightly. She kicked out wildly, shaking her head and screaming, "No!" over and over again. "He didn't deserve this! He was doing the right thing!"
Mr. Weasley walked up the steps to the door of Grimmauld Place and held them open for Harry to carry the writhing girl through, leaving Ron with Draco's body. He knelt next to the boy and shut his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Malfoy," Ron murmured, taking his moment and hoping that somehow Draco heard him. "I'll make sure Hermione is well taken care of."
Ron gathered Draco's battered body into his arms and carried him up to the house, where Mr. Weasley was still holding the door open. Once inside, Ron went to the living room and set the still-warm body on the couch. He sat on the floor and put his head between his knees.
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The next day, a small ceremony was held for Draco in the backyard of Grimmauld Place. It was closed-casket, but Hermione had opened the box to place a note inside. She didn't tell anyone what the note contained, but no one asked her either. She cried quietly throughout the service. Not only for the loss of the father of her child, but for the loss of a person she had begun to care so much about.
No one said any words over his grave. No one but Hermione had gotten to know him in the time he had spent as a double-agent. But she threw the first handful of dirt onto his grave before it was filled completely. Through her tears, Hermione couldn't help but smile sadly knowing that he would never be forgotten by her. No amount of time would make her forget what he had meant to her, or how he had impacted her life because she would have a piece of him with her for the rest of her days.
Resting her hand lightly on her still-flat stomach, Hermione turned back to the house with the knowledge that it wouldn't be flat for much longer. And she knew that she would raise their child to know what a great man his or her father had been and the sacrifice he had made to the cause he believed in during the war to end all wars.